


just the way you are

by inkquell



Category: GOT7, Monsta X (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Body Image, Established Relationship, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Self-Esteem Issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-21
Updated: 2016-08-21
Packaged: 2018-08-09 05:00:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,258
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7787656
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inkquell/pseuds/inkquell
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jackson wouldn't change a single thing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	just the way you are

**Author's Note:**

> I missed writing shorter fics so here's this one. 
> 
> Warning for body image issues! Also implied sexual content (?) I guess.
> 
> Set in some sort of vague AU. I don't know.

Jackson is in the middle of his usual workout when his phone rings, vibrating against the floor at the bottom of his gym bag. His ringtone is a loud, high-pitched, sporadic beeping—a deliberately annoying sound Yugyeom set it to. Jinyoung always complains about it and Jackson always forgets to change it to something less ear-splitting. His panicked phone fractures the silence of the otherwise quiet gym. Jackson sets his weights back onto the rack, closes the door to the weight room so no one has to hear the beeping any longer, and grabs his phone from his bag. 

_Jooheonie is calling…_

Jackson has a few unread texts from BamBam and Youngjae, but ignores them to answer the call first.

“Hello?”

“Jackson?” 

As soon as Jackson hears Jooheon’s voice, his heart flutters, a burst of butterflies beating their wings inside his ribcage. They’ve been dating for just over five months, but Jackson still feels giddy whenever he sees him, or talks to him, or texts him. He knows he probably shouldn’t. He probably should be used to it by now, but he isn’t. He hopes he never is.

“Jooheonie,” Jackson says. “Hi.” 

“Jackson-ah,” Jooheon says. “What are you doing?”

Jackson holds the phone closer to his ear. The reception must be bad—either on Jooheon’s end or his own—because there’s static leaking through the call, loud and fuzzy. He can barely hear Jooheon’s voice over it. 

“I’m at the gym,” Jackson says, probably talking too loudly to compensate. He plugs his left ear, thinking that might help, but then he remembers the sound is coming from his phone not around him. He shakes his head at himself. _They always do that in the movies,_ he reasons.

“I figured you’d be. I’m right outside.”

“Really?”

“Yeah,” Jooheon says. “I just got off work. Do you want to get something to eat? Or go see a movie or something? Doesn’t really matter.”

Jackson smiles. “Yeah, sure.”

“Are you gonna be finished soon?”

The static gets louder. Jackson adjusts the volume of the call. 

“Soon,” he says. “I just need to finish these last few reps, shower quickly, then I’ll meet you outside.” 

“Well, hurry up,” Jooheon says. Jackson can almost hear his pout through the phone. “It’s pouring out.”

Oh, that’s what that noise is. The weight room has no windows to see the rain through. Worry creeps inside his chest when he realizes Jooheon is probably wet and cold. 

“Yah, why didn’t you tell me?” Jackson scolds. He doesn’t mean to raise his voice, but it slips past him. “You’re gonna get sick.”

“Yah! Why didn’t you tell me you were gonna take so long?” Jooheon replies back with equal intensity, his voice overlapping the sound of rain pitter-pattering against the sidewalk. “I’m waiting for _you_.”

A smile spreads across Jackson’s face despite himself. “Waiting for me in the rain… That’s kind of romantic.” 

Jooheon snorts. “Go shower.”

“I’m not gonna leave you out in the rain.”

“I’m fine, Jackson.” Jooheon sounds oddly reluctant for some reason. Jackson figures he’s just being difficult for the hell of it. 

“No, I’m coming to get you,” Jackson says. “See you in a minute.” He hangs up, grabs his gym membership keycard, and heads down the hall.

Jooheon is waiting for him by the back door, tucked underneath the very edge of the roof to shelter himself from the rain. His hands are shoved into the pockets of his coat, his hood tugged over his eyes, his arms and legs pulled tight together for warmth. Jackson pushes open the backdoor and pokes his head out, the damp, cool air hitting his bare arms like an electric shock. He doesn’t bother saying hello—unwilling to let Jooheon stand in the rain a second longer—before grabbing him by the sleeve of his cliché yellow raincoat and pulling him inside. 

Jooheon tugs the hood off his head. Raindrops roll off his jacket, but thankfully the rest of him is dry. “Hey,” he says with an amused grin. 

“Hey,” Jackson says. 

Now that Jooheon is looking at him, Jackson realizes how unkempt he looks. He probably smells too. His black tank top sticks to his skin with sweat and he can feel beads of it dripping down the seam of his spine. Jackson runs a hand through his hair to brush it back into something neater. 

“Sorry, I’m kind of,” Jackson motions to himself, “gross.” All Jooheon does is shrug. He’s seen Jackson in worse states of undress before. This is probably nothing. “So you agree I look gross?” Jackson teases, purposefully giving him a hard time. 

Jooheon throws his head back and lets out an exasperated laugh. “When do you ever look gross?” he says, his expression softening. “Every time I see you, you look handsome.”

Jackson laughs him off, but he appreciates the compliment. 

The gym is mostly empty by now. The exercise equipment is abandoned for the night, treadmills, bicycles, and weight machines powered off in solitary rows. The televisions are still on, showing sitcoms and dramas and the evening news. Jackson spots a few people packing up their things into gym bags, towels, workout clothes, and exercise mats. Jooheon flashes them a glance as they pass by, his gaze falling onto the curved muscle of the tallest, especially built, gym goer’s back. When Jackson notices, he tugs on Jooheon’s arm a little harder than he means to. Jooheon follows him back to the private weight room without protest. Jackson shuts the door behind them, maybe a little too eagerly, but he is eager. 

Jooheon shrugs off his wet raincoat, hangs it on one of the hooks by the door, then sits on the edge of a bench press. He pulls his phone out of his pocket. 

“Movie times,” Jooheon mutters to himself as he types something on his phone. “Oh, here. What do you want to see? There’s that superhero one out.”

Jackson crosses the room to the rack of weights to finish his workout where he left off. “I thought it was super villains.”

“Same thing,” Jooheon says. “We could see it at nine twenty or nine forty-five.” 

“Either one is fine.”

“Or ten o’clock,” Jooheon says.

“Doesn’t matter.”

“Is nine forty-five okay?”

“Yup.”

Jackson lifts a weight off the rack. It’s heavy in his hand. He lets out a breath and curls it towards his chest.

He counts the repetitions.

1,2,3,4,5. 

Repeat.

Jackson thinks he feels Jooheon watching him, but when he looks over Jooheon’s eyes are avoidantly glued to the screen of his phone. He’s usually not this shy, or disinterested, or inattentive. Five minutes ago he was calling Jackson handsome, and now suddenly his phone is all the more interesting. 

Or maybe he’s just playing hard to get.  

Jackson switches the weight to his other hand, purposefully letting out a grunt as he curls it towards him, hoping it will force Jooheon’s attention back.

1,2,3,4,5. 

Repeat.

Jooheon doesn’t budge.

Frustrated, Jackson sets the weight back down. He evaluates his reflection in the mirror across the wall—smooth and tan skin, collarbone lightly speckled with sweat, the thick and taut muscle of his back peaking out from beneath his tank top, the gentle swell of his biceps. Jackson experimentally flexes, then turns back on his heels to face Jooheon again. 

“Do you think my arms have gotten smaller?” he asks. 

“Huh?” 

“My arms. I think they look smaller.”

Jooheon finally glances up at him. “They look the same to me,” he says.

“I haven't had as much time to work out lately,” Jackson says.

Jooheon hums in half-hearted agreement, then his eyes drop back down to the screen in front of him. 

Again.

Jackson almost groans out of frustration. He snatches a bottle of water on the floor by his feet. He takes a sip, purposefully letting some dribble out the side and drip down his chin to the line of his throat. Even then, Jooheon doesn't pay any attention to him.

This isn't working. 

In a last attempt, Jackson lies down on the bench beside Jooheon, his back flat against the black, faux leather, his knees bent over the edge. He looks over at him. Jooheon’s nose is barely an inch away from touching the screen of his phone. He finally lifts his head. Finally. When he catches Jackson’s eyes, he raises his eyebrows. 

Jackson gets an idea. “Anchor me?” he asks. 

Jooheon looks over at him, his eyes following the line of his body curved over the bench. “For sit-ups?”

“Mhm.” Jackson can’t quite reach Jooheon, so he motions him over. Jooheon still looks skeptical, but when Jackson pats the tops of his thighs he finally puts his phone down. “Come here, hurry up.”

Jackson can very well do sit-ups on his own, but he needs an excuse to bring Jooheon’s attention back to him. After some convincing, Jooheon complies. He throws a leg over the bench and lowers himself until he’s sitting on Jackson’s thighs, balancing his weight partly on Jackson and partly on the floor. He briefly lifts his feet off the ground, spreading and stretching his legs out on either side of Jackson before planting his feet back on the floor so he doesn’t have to rest all of his weight on his thighs. 

Jooheon wiggles a little on top of him, trying to get comfortable. “I’m not too heavy am I?” he asks.

Jackson tucks his arms behind his head and sits-up, shamelessly flexing a little, tightening his core, keeping his eyes on Jooheon as he works his abdominal muscles. He sits up, then lowers himself back down, silently counting his repetitions. 

Up.

Down.

Up.

Down.

Repeat. 

“Yeah, right,” Jackson says. He sits back up again, his nose only an inch away from Jooheon’s. He pauses for a second. “Lie flat, I’ll bench press you.”

Jooheon laughs. He’s close enough that Jackson can feel the warmth of his breath against his face. “Yeah, right,” Jooheon says, using Jackson’s own words. “You’re strong, but not _that_ strong.”

Jackson lies back down. He does a few more reps before saying, “Wanna bet?” 

“Not really,” Jooheon says. “You’ll probably drop me. I might break something.”

“I wouldn’t drop you.”

“I’d rather not try my chances.”

On his way back up again, Jackson leans forward a little further. Their lips almost brush.

Almost. 

Jackson pauses long enough to tease Jooheon before lying back down against the bench. It’s his own form of payback. A smirk tugs at his lips. Jooheon only rolls his eyes at him, but Jackson can easily tell he’s growing frustrated. 

Up.

Down.

Up.

Down.

Repeat. 

Jackson leans forward again, but before he can tease him any longer, Jooheon pushes him down against the bench. His hand presses against his chest, pinning him down. Jackson lands with an _oof_. The bench shakes slightly under the force of the push. 

Okay. Maybe he deserved that. 

Jackson takes a slow, discreet breath, unwilling to show Jooheon he has the upper hand. It doesn’t work. Jooheon shifts forward so he’s no longer straddling Jackson’s thighs, but his lap, sitting his ass right… there. 

Yeah.

Jackson swallows. 

Breathes in.

Breathes out.

In.

Out.

Repeat.

Jooheon doesn’t say anything as he lifts Jackson’s sweat dampened tank top to reveal smooth, firm muscle. His stomach is cool to the touch. Jooheon traces the lines along his abdomen, taut from years of athletic training. The pads of his fingers run along the slight V at Jackson’s hips, up high enough to brush his sternum, then underneath his naval where his happy trail begins. It tickles, but Jackson feels a contrasting warmth push down in the pit of his stomach. 

Jooheon continues to gently press his palm flat against his abdomen, almost admiring how the muscle feels underneath his hand, how Jackson’s stomach rises and falls with his breath, quicker now that Jooheon is pinning him between the bench press and his thighs. Jooheon leans forward slightly. Jackson thinks he’ll finally kiss him, despite being in a semi-public gym—not that their current position is any less compromising—but he only fiddles with the edge of Jackson’s tank top.

“I think I should start working out more,” Jooheon says, his hands stilling. “Weight lifting, one handed push ups, sit-ups, whatever shit you do.”

Jackson thinks he’s joking at first, or making fun of him, but then Jooheon lets out a heavy, uncharacteristic sigh.

The mood drops, the air suddenly turning stiff. Jackson frowns. “I thought you weren’t into that kind of thing.”

“I’m not.” Jooheon rolls Jackson’s shirt back down to cover his stomach. He pulls at the fabric, letting it snap back against Jackson’s skin. “To be honest, I don’t like gyms very much,” Jooheon says. “Being stuck in one place, surrounded by all these guys sculpted like Greek gods, judging my own body. I don’t know how you spend so much time here.”

“Jooheon.” Jackson frowns, his forehead creasing. “I didn’t know you felt that way. If I knew I wouldn’t have brought—”

“It’s not a big deal.”

“If it makes you feel self-conscious it is,” Jackson says. “We don’t have to stay here. We can go.” 

Jooheon looks across the room at the far wall where a full length mirror stretches from the floor to the ceiling. Jackson watches as Jooheon scrutinizes himself in the mirror, his eyes travelling up and down, from his thighs parted to accommodate Jackson’s waist in between, the curves of his back, his neck and the line of his jaw.

Jooheon reaches up to poke his cheek. He pinches the skin and pulls. “I get why people say my face looks puffy on TV.”

“Yah, Jooheonie, stop it,” Jackson says. He wiggles from underneath him, pulling Jooheon’s attention away from the mirror and back to him. “People don't know what they’re talking about. You’re a rapper not a super model.” 

“I know,” Jooheon says. “But sometimes, like today... I mean I _try_ not to, but watching you do all…this… I don’t know how I’m not supposed to feel jealous.”

“What? Jealous of me?”

“I don’t know, Jackson,” Jooheon says. He rolls up Jackson’s shirt again, like he’s trying to prove a point. “Look at yourself. You’re all this and I’m all not that. I guess I feel… disappointing… in comparison.”

Disappointing. Jackson didn’t know four simple syllables could hit him so hard.

“You’re not disappointing, Jooheon-ah.” Jackson says immediately. “I like your thick thighs and your ass and your soft stomach and your smile and how your dimples sink into your cheeks,” he adds. “You should too. You’re perfect just the way you are and you always have been.” 

“Corny,” Jooheon says.

“Hey, I’m being serious,” Jackson insists. He slides his hands up Jooheon’s thighs to his sides. His sweater bunches up around his waist. “If you lose weight what will your dimples sink into?” 

Jooheon laughs, obviously frustrated, but also amused. He leans forward a little closer to Jackson. “I think they’ll still be there,” he says, then makes a point of curling his lips until the familiar dimples indent his cheeks. 

Jackson shakes his head. “I don’t want to take any risks.” 

“Cute,” Jooheon says. 

“No, you are.”

“I don’t want to be cute, I want to be good looking.”

“You can be cute and good looking at the same time,” Jackson argues. “You’re handsome _and_ you’re adorable. What more do you want? Leave some for the rest of us.” 

“Handsome?” Jooheon asks, an eyebrow raised. 

“Yup.”

He decides to play along. “Sexy?”

“Oh, yeah.”

“Beautiful?” 

“Definitely.”

“You’re ridiculous.” 

Finally, just as Jackson grows tired of waiting, Jooheon kisses him. Jackson sits up to meet his lips. He rests his hands on the sides of Jooheon’s face, fingers splayed across his smooth cheeks, over his warm tipped ears, and buried into his hair. Jooheon wraps his hands around Jackson’s wrists, holding him there. He traces Jackson’s bottom lip with his tongue, then interrupts the kiss just as he parts his lips for him. 

“We’re gonna miss our movie,” Jooheon says, but his goofy smile tells Jackson he couldn’t care less.

Jackson laughs. At this point he doesn’t even remember what movie they decided to see. “Doesn’t matter,” he says. 

“Yeah, I don’t care either.” 

Jackson squishes Jooheon's cheeks beneath his hands and Jooheon laughs. “Come home with me,” Jackson says.

“Okay.”

—

Jackson presses Jooheon against the front door of his apartment as soon as they both get inside, shutting it closed with a thud. The wood is cold on the back of Jackson’s arms as he braces against it. They’re both wet. In between the time it took to get from the taxi and into the building, the rain soaked through to their skin. 

Raindrops drip down Jooheon’s cheeks as Jackson kisses him.When Jackson leans in even closer, Jooheon chuckles, breaking the kiss with his grin. 

“I don’t think the rain was enough to wash the gym smell off of you,” Jooheon says. “Go shower.”

Jackson groans. “Is this payback for me teasing you earlier?”

“Maybe,” Jooheon says. He pushes Jackson in the direction of the bathroom. “Shower. I’ll wait for you.”

Jackson does as he's told, kissing Jooheon one more time before disappearing to wash up. 

When Jackson finishes, Jooheon is sprawled out on his bed, waiting for him just like he said he would. Jackson turns off the taps with a clunk, pulling back the curtain and stepping out of the shower. A cloud of steam follows him out the door. He pats his hair dry with a towel, then wraps it around his waist before he enters his bedroom. 

“Took you long enough,” Jooheon teases. He yawns, rolling over on the mattress, stretching out his arms and legs like a lazy cat awaking from a long nap. 

“Shut up, I was less than five minutes and you know it,” Jackson says.

“I know, I know.” Jooheon sits up, his feet dangling off the edge of Jackson’s bed. 

Jackson leans forward and kisses him—a soft and pulling kiss, the kind that never fails to make him feel warm all over, from the very top of his head all the way down to his toes. He reaches down and gently tugs Jooheon’s still damp sweater over his head. He’s more than happy that Jooheon doesn’t shy away from his touch, but instead leans into it. Jackson brushes his hands over his sides, up and down his stomach in the same manner Jooheon had earlier, taking his time to paint invisible patterns across his skin with his fingertips. 

A breathy sigh passes Jooheon’s lips. Jackson can tell he’s still thinking about it. Jooheon is so difficult to read, except when he’s not. Jackson wishes he wouldn’t worry so much, but if he’s going to worry at least he can find some comfort knowing Jackson will always be there to reassure him.

“Jackson,” Jooheon begins, “If you could change anything about me—” 

He doesn’t want to hear whatever stupid question Jooheon’s about to ask, so he doesn’t let him finish. 

“I wouldn’t,” Jackson says.

Plain and simple.

Jooheon smiles. He tugs Jackson closer, letting the towel around his hips fall gently to the floor. He gives Jackson a once over. “Yeah, the feeling’s mutual.”

Jackson kisses him. He kisses the gentle curve of his jaw, the hollow between his throat and his collarbone, his forehead, his nose, his cheeks, his eyelids, and his lips again and again. 

Repeat.

Repeat. 

Repeat. 

**Author's Note:**

> Boyfriends hyping each other up: a concept.
> 
> I've never written Jackson before. I hope it was okay lol
> 
> (In all seriousness though, I hope Jooheon learns to love himself more, and doesn't feel the need to lose any more weight than he already has. He better be taking care of himself or I will personally fly to Korea. P.S. Anyone who thinks Jooheon ever needed to lose weight in the first place can catch these hands.)
> 
> Follow me on twitter @inkquells if you'd like.


End file.
